


god

by ashhh



Category: Rick and Morty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-27 00:44:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18293429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashhh/pseuds/ashhh
Summary: fuck you, god.





	god

Though saturated with alcohol and numbed with drugs, your grinding, rocking, brilliant brain recognises a familiar grey old man looking through you. The image is distorted and vague, but his hazy eyes don’t leave yours for a second. And, for a second, you think that this must be rock bottom.

His clothes are crusted and stained with blood; some undeniably his own, some unmistakably alien, all of it taken from the innocent. Though shiny and bright, his eyes are distant, buried under layers upon layers of foreign substances and a subsequent constant state of dissociation.  
It’s like watching a dim light flicker on the surface of the ocean, far into the distance, unmoving from the constant line of the horizon, gradually falling further and further away. Crackling with energy and ashen from constant deprivation, hypervigilant and completely apathetic, dead and alive: he’s a paradox. The man is a paradox.

But, out of every life form in the universe, this man is God. And it’s you. You are God.

And the truth of it fucking hurts. It burns through you with agonising pain, like a parasite eating away at the core of you until there’s nothing left but a sad imitation of a hollow and empty shell. 

But no amount of alcohol can fill the void. No drug can sway the undeniable fact of your immeasurable power, and what your filthy hands have yielded it to do.

You have destroyed countless planets, murdered children, brought universes to their knees. For what? To be standing here, right now, in the disgusting bathroom of a club you don’t even remember the name of?

You haven’t had enough alcohol for this shit. The fact that you were even able to recognise yourself in the mirror at all, let alone stand up and look in a straight line, is a testament to the strength of your liver. So, you leave the bathroom, and blaring foreign music and moving lights in colours your human eyes shouldn’t be able to see greet you like an old friend. They swallow you up, like a hug that’s a little too tight and lasts a touch too long. And you absolutely fucking revel in it.

Because you’re a Rick. That’s just what you do.


End file.
